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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428544">Ancient Rites of Worship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkysubject/pseuds/quirkysubject'>quirkysubject</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quirky's Anon Prompt Challenge [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Bickering, Boyfriends taking care of each other, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Flirting, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Hair Braiding, Humor, M/M, Magical Realism, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modeling, Multi, Not Really Mpreg, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Prompt Fill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:07:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkysubject/pseuds/quirkysubject</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Freddie might not understand it, but he deserves it all.</i>
</p><p>Genderbend!AU by freely available transformation magic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Freddie Mercury, Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Freddie Mercury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quirky's Anon Prompt Challenge [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ancient Rites of Worship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayamaia/gifts">mayamaia</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the first of my fills for <a href="https://quirkysubject.tumblr.com/post/624072927120375808/anon-fic-requests-open">Quirky's Prompt Challenge</a> on tumblr! </p><p>The prompt was: <i>Genderbend by freely available transformation magic: which band members would use it most often, which ones would stay as a girl for long stretches of time? Bonus: Freddie saying Brian should braid his hair, but not knowing how to do it himself and learning to (slowly, cautiously, not badly) with Brian’s hair.</i></p><p>This challenge is dedicated to my fandom friends, who encouraged me to post my fic in the first place, who introduced me to Tunisian carrot salad, who are always there for me to brainstorm and commiserate on what a difficult lot we writers have, who leave the loveliest and most generous comments on my fic and who have taught me so much!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“All I’m saying is that it can’t be healthy.” Brian fixates Roger with a stern look. “It’s your body of course, and it's far from the worst thing you're inflicting on it, but <i>really</i>.”</p><p>Freddie braces himself for another tirade against Roger’s smoking habit - one he is often dragged into because Brian views his occasionally bumming a fag as evidence of Roger’s bad influence on him - but Roger doesn't take the bait. </p><p>“And all <i>I’m</i> saying is that you don’t have a shred of evidence for that.” </p><p>“It’s common sense, Rog!” </p><p>“E-vi-dence, Bri.” Roger leans forward and taps out the syllables with two fingers against Brian’s knee, which has Brian swatting at his hand as if it's an annoying insect. “They did studies on it. No detrimental effects whatsoever.”</p><p>“All of those studies were incredibly flawed methodologically.” Brian turns his head to look at Roger and grimaces as his movement is stopped by Freddie holding on to the strands of his hair. </p><p>“Will you sit still”, Freddie admonishes. Braiding those curls is difficult enough as it is, and if Brian wants to be on time for the photoshoot - and looking decent and not like birds have been nesting in his hair - Freddie has got to get on with it. He's got a lot better at it, but he's far from perfect. </p><p>Brian throws him a look that is more annoyed than apologetic before he turns back to Roger. “None of them were measuring long term effects. And a third of the subjects dropped out completely after less than a year. What conclusions can you draw from that?” </p><p>“You’re just discounting every piece of evidence that doesn’t fit your old-fashioned world-view”, Roger says and leans back in his armchair.</p><p>In his loose, faded jeans and white t-shirt, he looks good enough to eat, but Freddie can’t be distracted right now. Managing both the braid and the bobby pins at the same time takes up all his concentration.  </p><p>“No, you’re cherry-picking the evidence so you get to do what’s most convenient for you”, Brian shoots back. It’s amazing how his voice barely changes when he’s in his female form. If Freddie closed his eyes - which he won’t, because that would completely destroy an hour’s work - he would have difficulties to tell that Brian had bent at all. Always the same soft-yet-clear timbre. </p><p>And the same holier-than-thou tone that can rile Roger up like nothing else. </p><p>But this time, Roger doesn’t lose his smug grin. “Saves on sanitary pads though. So much better for the environment.”</p><p>Freddie suppresses a groan even while he can’t help the grin forming on his lips. Them’s fighting words. He hastily ties a bow to the end of the braid before things get too heated.  </p><p>“As if you give a toss about the environment! You even refuse to buy vegetables that don’t come wrapped in plastic because they are, and I quote, ‘unhygienic’!” </p><p>“Well, they are!” </p><p>“Darlings, please…” Freddie tries to fend off the inevitable. </p><p>“You realise we have running water in this house, right?" Brian's voice gets louder. "That we can use to, like, <i>wash</i> things?” </p><p>“Oh, so you know about that, Mr 'I’m Too Important To Do The Dishes'? That’s good to know, because-”</p><p>“Oh, will you three shut up!” </p><p>Silence falls. Three heads sheepishly turn to the second sofa, where John is glaring at them through eyes still puffy from a lack of sleep. He’s had a rough night and they’d all been glad when he managed to doze off. </p><p>“Sorry”, Brian mumbles.</p><p>“If Roger wants to skip his periods by not bending for a week, that’s his decision. I’m sick and tired of listening to the same discussion every single month!”</p><p>“Yes, of course it is, I was just…”</p><p>“And Roger, stop riling Brian up like that! You know how anxious Bri gets before an important job. It's really not-” He grimaces and runs a hand over his huge belly. </p><p>“Sorry, love.” Roger gets up and walks over to John, crouching in front of the couch and stroking a hand through his hair. “Can I get you anything? Water? A back rub?”</p><p>“Later, perhaps. Just get Brian to the shoot and back without ripping each other’s head off”, John grumbles, but he’s pressing his head into Roger’s hand. </p><p>"We'll get you some of that Tunisian carrot salad you like so much on the way back", Brian promises. </p><p>"Hm, that would be lovely." After a few seconds, John turns his head towards Freddie. “And perhaps some cold compresses for my feet in the meantime?”</p><p>“Of course, darling.” John’s feet tend to swell up grotesquely, especially now that it's so hot outside. It's a bit gross, to be honest - not that Freddie would ever say that, he’s not that much of a tart - but they all jump at any opportunity to make John feel better. </p><p>Of course, he had brought it on himself. They’d all been talking about the possibility of having children for a while, but every time the discussion turned serious, each of them found an excuse why they couldn’t do it - Brian didn’t want to endanger the modelling jobs that provided most of their income, Roger just didn’t feel ready yet, and Freddie… well, to be honest, the thought of spending at least nine months in his female form was just incredibly off-putting. </p><p>He rarely ever bends as it is. Somehow, he just never truly got the hang of it. Everything just feels off when he does it - his voice, his skin, the round hips that keep bumping into the furniture… And then there is the matter of his body hair. Which he likes, quite a lot in fact. But in his female form, it just isn’t same, no matter how often Brian tells him that “we’d take you as a hairy girl, Fred.” And if he shaves, he stays that way for a while when he turns back, and that just feels awful, despite Roger’s assurances that “we’d take you as a clean-shaven guy, too, Fred.” </p><p>Freddie muses about this a bit more as he gets up to prepare the compresses for John. </p><p>Perhaps it’s just because he was never allowed to transform growing up. His parents were horrified to find out he was one of <i>them</i>, and so - apart from some teenage explorations in the darkness of his bedroom, hidden away under the safety of his blankets - he had stayed in his male form. Thanks to his boyfriends and the more liberal attitude at his art college - where most people seemed genuinely envious at his abilities - got bolder and experimented a bit more, but he's never truly got the hang of it.</p><p>And besides, however much Roger might brag about his eight orgasms in one session - or whatever his current record is - for Freddie there is just nothing that beats a prostate as far as erogenous zones go. </p><p>The only times he truly appreciates his ability is when he feels anxious and worn down and just wants his boyfriends to hold him close. Even Roger, who's barely taller than him, can rest his chin on the top of Freddie's head then, easily lift him into his arms and carry him to bed. And when all three curl up around him, there's no time when he feels so warm and cosy and protected. </p><p>Freddie pulls himself out of his reverie to focus on the task at hand. He picks up a couple of compresses and soaks them in cold water, then moves to the freezer to get some ice. He peers critically into the drawer. </p><p>“Roger, my dear, can you buy some ice on the way home”, he calls out over his shoulder.  “We’re down to the last pack.” </p><p>“Sure.” When Freddie looks back up, Roger is standing in the doorway, casually slipping on his shoes. Freddie adores those times when he stays in his male form for longer. It’s not that he’s not cute as a girl too, but… Freddie sighs. Perhaps he is just too gay to be a bender. </p><p>The thing is just that usually, Roger is drifting so freely. He'd go to have a coffee and return five minutes later an inch shorter and stumbling over the hems of his trousers. At least he stopped changing mid-sex, as per Freddie's request. That had been disconcerting. 

</p><p>Because Roger is so comfortable with it, when they first started talking about having children, they'd all somehow assumed that he would be the one to get pregnant. But Roger had hemmed and hawed and evaded the conversation whenever someone (usually John) brought it up. He had also continued to take his birth control pills religiously every night.</p><p>So it had looked as if it would be a couple more years before they crossed that river. Until that night when John had walked into the living room, with tight jeans and a low cut halter top showing off his curves and a determined expression on his face. John, who viewed bending in purely practical terms, as a nice way to fit better into the back of a van to do the fiddly bits with a screwdriver (or, occasionally to drive Roger absolutely wild in bed.) This John crossed his arms, stared all of them down and announced he was going to stay in his female shape until he’s either pregnant or menopausal. </p><p>And that was that. It’s all going beautifully and John looks glowy and radiant (that is, when he isn’t puking his guts out or hasn’t slept for three days because of his back pain or breaks down crying because the cartoon frog printed on the cereal box looked sad). Freddie can’t wait to hold little Lily - because <i>of course</i> that’s what she’ll be named, the others will come round. No way will Roger prevail with his ridiculous wild cat theme - in his arms. </p><p>The only real downside is that they haven’t seen John’s lovely cock, which is possibly Freddie's favourite thing in the world, in almost a year! And all the doctors recommend staying in female shape while nursing as well, which will mean another six months at least. Maybe a year! Freddie has already planned a three-day festival to celebrate the return of John’s cock. He's beginning to understand what compelled the ancients to build things like Stonehenge. He'd happily spend his days hauling tons of rock around the landscape if he thought it would make his object of worship appear sooner.</p><p>Roger cocks his head at Freddie, a smile playing around his lips. "Penny for your thoughts?"</p><p>Freddie purses his lips to hide his grin. No way is he going to share <i>that</i> particular thought with Roger. Although… “I miss Deaky’s cock”, he stage-whispers so John can’t hear. </p><p>“God, me too”, Roger sighs dramatically and then snickers. He eyes Freddie for a moment and then gets that look in his eyes that spells either huge trouble or enormous fun (or - usually - both). He leans against the door frame, hands in the pockets of his jeans and his lips curl up in a mischievous grin. “Got any plans for tonight?” </p><p>Freddie twirls a strand of hair around his fingers, pretending he has to think a bit about that. But actually, it’s perfect. John has been sleeping on the sofa for the last two months because it’s cooler there than the top-floor bedroom. And Brian always needs space after a shoot, so he’ll be in the guest bedroom (although he might come out to watch a bit if they’re loud enough to wake him up). It’s been ages since it has been only him and Roger. Way too long. “We’ll see”, Freddie says with a shrug and returns to his job of preparing the compresses. </p><p>Behind him, he can hear Roger chuckle. “Damn right we will”, he mutters, and his gruff voice sends a shiver down Freddie’s spine. </p><p>Oh, he’s in for a treat. </p><p>“Ready, Rog? Freddie, how do I look?” Brian has appeared in the hallway, fiddling with his earrings. </p><p>“Marvellous, darling!” Freddie picks up the compresses and walks towards him. Brian’s always much more fussy in this form. Whereas Roger and John barely change in attitude when they bend, Brian suddenly can’t stop primping his hair and gets very particular about his makeup. And this from a guy who is known to put his trousers on the wrong way round and not noticing the entire day because he's too caught up in whatever clever thoughts he's thinking. </p><p>Perhaps it’s because his female aspect is so bound to his model persona. The only times he bends are for professional purposes. (And some of the more experimental sex games he plays with Roger and John.) </p><p>Freddie checks over Brian’s hair one last time. They’ll have stylists at the shoot, of course, but he likes to know he looks perfect before he ventures out. Which he does. Taller than any of them even without the heels, mostly consisting of endless slim legs, he earns more in a two-hour session than any of them do in a week. Although it’s a bit of a mystery to Freddie why he doesn’t have nearly the same success as a male model, after all he’s absolutely stunning in either form. </p><p>Freddie plucks some invisible lint from Brian’s black leather jacket and smiles up at him. “Give us a kiss.”</p><p>Brian leans down and presses his lips to Freddie’s, ignoring the danger this poses to his perfectly applied lipstick. Freddie gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll blow their fucking minds, darling.”</p><p>Then Roger slings an arm around Brian’s waist. “Come on, gorgeous”, he says and twirls his car keys around his finger. Freddie smiles at the sight. Driving his beautiful model boyfriend around in his vintage car is his childhood dream come true. </p><p>Before the door falls shut behind them, Roger turns around briefly and winks at Freddie. “Later”, he whispers with a completely ridiculous, bright grin and slides his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose. </p><p>Freddie needs a minute or five to notice that his cold compresses are melting and dripping onto his bare feet. </p><p>“Shit”, he hisses and hurries into the living room. </p><p>At first, he thinks that John has fallen asleep, but he blinks up at Freddie when he comes close. Freddie holds up the compresses. “You want them now? I can put them in the freezer again too if…”</p><p>“No, now, please.” John wearily flexes his swollen toes. </p><p>Freddie lifts his legs, sits down on the sofa with a towel over his thighs, and lowers John’s feet into his lap. He runs his thumb over John’s arches, making him groan. </p><p>“Feels nice”, he says and rubs a hand over his eyes. </p><p>“That’s good.” Freddie carefully wraps the cloth around John’s ankles, careful not to let any ice touch the skin directly. "Just two more weeks, give or take."</p><p>“Hmm, I love you”, John murmurs as the cold seeps into his skin, sounding half-delirious with relief. </p><p>“And I you.” He looks up at John, bloated and exhausted and with dark rings under his eyes, and he’s so happy that for a moment he finds it hard to breathe.</p><p>Really, if anyone had told him just ten years ago that he’d end up having not just one, but three gorgeous boyfriends who love him no matter what and with a baby on the way, he’d have laughed in their face (and then bawled his eyes out once he was alone). But somehow, by some cosmic miracle, he can’t possibly understand or deserve, that’s exactly what happened. </p><p>He has to look away for a moment. In contrast to John, he doesn’t have hormones to blame for his stinging eyes. Two right old saps they are.</p><p>“Freddie?” </p><p>Freddie bites his lip and looks back up again. The smile on John's face looks beatific, but there’s something in his eyes that has Freddie’s senses tingling. </p><p>“Yes, dear”, he sniffs. </p><p>John puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. He takes a deep, contented breath as if he’s settling in for a night time story. “So, tell me, Freddie. How exactly are you going to venerate my cock?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’ll be honest, I groaned when I drew this prompt, because how do you expect me to write magic genderbent!AU without spending three months world-building first? But then I had so much fun writing his and making up headcanons for the boys. Really, thanks so much for the prompt, @mayamaia!</p><p>Some additional headcanons I couldn't cram in there:<br/>- They never bend when they make music because it would mean relearning a piece completely to play it with a differently sized body (mind you, there has been more than one manager pressuring them to form a girl band). The exception is that one time Freddie made Brian play the harp, where he found the slimmer fingers useful.<br/>- Roger had a phase in his teens when he stopped bending completely because he was teased for it so much (à la 'no one can tell the difference anyway'). It took a woke girlfriend and some radical benderist literature for him to embrace it. Sexist bullshit sets him off like nothing else.<br/>- They're all pretty broke, apart from Brian, so Roger's 'vintage car' was like £ 500 and keeps falling apart. But he loves it and gets annoyed whenever someone refers to is as a rusty old deathtrap, so everyone's embraced the euphemism 'vintage' because they love him and it makes him happy.</p><p>Feel free to add more in the comments!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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